


growing up is a heavy leaf to turn

by gentlelogic



Series: Sanders Sides Misc. Work [43]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Depressive Episode, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not eating due to depressive episode, Vague hints at suicidal thoughts, homophobia mention, religon mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlelogic/pseuds/gentlelogic
Summary: "Christ, Patton," Janus snaps. "That's when youask for help.""But I should be helping, not needing helped. I am Thomas'smorality! The father figure.""And also the inner child," Patton rears back, cheeks burning. Janus's voice softens, "A child who is wounded and hurt, who never truly healed from many different things because he insists on always brushing the hurt off in favour of helping everyone else."
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Sanders Sides Misc. Work [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/906489
Comments: 29
Kudos: 139





	growing up is a heavy leaf to turn

Here's the thing: Patton is good at lying to himself, which is kind of terrifying when he thinks about it. So he doesn't think about it. Instead, he takes every single bad feeling and he stuffs it down deeper inside, until he can barely remember it existed in the first place. And if _that_ starts to make him feel bad, he just stuffs it inside of another box and buries it even deeper down until he can smile again. If he can feel it crawling up, he just swallows it back until he can say, "I'm fine," and believe it.

Here's another thing: feelings are icky sometimes. Bad ones are a given; he feels sad and it's icky, he feels angry and he feels icky, and so on. But sometimes even the good ones feel icky. Patton can remember being sixteen and watching on in joy as Thomas fell in love with a boy in his class, only to plummet into the icky-ness on Sunday morning when his youth group talked about the 'sin of homosexuality.'

Patton's accustomed to feeling a little icky sometimes. He feels icky for hurting his friends and not realizing it. He feels icky for being able to feel any sort of positive emotions in spite of all the harm he's caused. _Icky_. Such a childish word. Logan would hate it. But nothing else can quite capture the feeling of lying in bed and feeling like nothing will ever feel okay again like the word "icky" can.

Curled up inside a nest of blankets, a stuffed turtle clutched against his chest, Patton feels icky, all inside his body. It curls over his stomach and his heart-- even his throat. It's kind of hard to breathe around the repulsive ever-present feeling of being a failure. To his fellow sides, to Thomas, and to himself.

Maybe Patton could have been able to bear it just fine if the whole callback situation simply presented new problems. Instead, it'd blown everything in the open and proved Patton was just another problem all along.

Yeah. It feels a little icky.

Patton doesn't really know how much time passes. The blankets are warm, the turtle is comforting pressed up against his chest, and the soft haze in his room lulls him in and out of sleep. He ignores the scooped-out emptiness in his stomach, the burning behind his eyes, and the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Maybe he's getting sick. Maybe it's payment for being such a bad Moral Compass. Maybe he's dying; the thought startles him for a second before it settles back down into apathy. If he is; oh well.

He should be a little more scared by that thought.

Roman comes by at least twice and knocks but simply walks away when Patton doesn't answer; he can't blame Roman. They're not exactly on speaking terms after the video. Logan comes by and spouts off a lecture on nostalgizing too much and how it negatively impacts Thomas's mental health. Towards the end, his voice simply softens to something kinder.

"If you wish to speak to someone… my door is unlocked."

Patton tries to call out in response; by the time he chokes one word out, Logan is gone.

Virgil knocks on Patton's door who-knows-how-much-longer later and frantically begs him to open the door to get something to eat or he'll make himself sick. Patton feels tears welling in his eyes, but he can't speak no matter how hard he tries. He can't move.

"I'm getting Janus," Virgil shouts, voice layering with panic. "And fuck you for making me do that."

Patton dozes off after that and is woken up by the sound of the door unlocking. Patton still can't move, but he watches as Janus steps in the room and shuts the door behind him. He flicks the light switch and the room floods with a soft yellow light. Janus looks at the nest Patton is buried in, then looks down to his hands where he adjusts his left glove.

"Good to see Virgil had _no_ reason to be worried."

Patton swallows. He tries to sit up, but he immediately feels dizzy and flops back against the pillows. He has no idea where the stuffed turtle has gone and for some reason, that makes his lip wobble and he desperately forces it to still.

Janus walks across the carpeted floor and offers out a hand that has a granola bar in it.

"You’re going to fade if you don't eat. Sit up."

That's the thing; sides can't die, but they can fade for a little while if they neglect to feed and care for their physical forms. Logan's got a long explanation for it that Patton doesn't understand. But they've all faded at one point or another; it's painful and not fun. Patton doesn't think he'd care right now if he faded though.

Patton sits up, clumsily so, and wraps a blanket around his shoulders until he feels like he won't shiver into a million pieces. He takes the offered granola bar and opens it. Takes a bite.

Janus stares unsettling. Patton forces himself to keep eating instead of crying.

"You… you are an unfathomable mess right now."

That, of all things, startles a laugh out of Patton.

"I'm not at my _mess_ -t, I must admit."

"That is terrible."

Patton forces a smile. "Could be worse."

"Or better," Janus says dryly. He pulls a water bottle out of his coat pocket. "Drink."

Patton does. While he does that, he spies his turtle on the floor beside the bed. Too embarrassed to reach down and grab it, he keeps his eyes on it as he drinks. If he had cool superpowers, he'd love to use those to lift the stuffed animal up with his mind alone. Roman would call it a waste of potential. Virgil would probably agree.

Janus interrupts Patton's thought process by leaning over and picking up the turtle. He plops it in Patton's lap and sits on the corner of the bed.

"So. What is this all about?"

"Nothing. I'm fine, kiddo."

"Oh, of course. My mistake. You only holed yourself up in your room with no food or water for two days simply for the good ol' time you're having up here."

"Don't be mean," Patton says quietly.

Janus laughs. " _Honey_." The word is mocking, but somehow kind. "I'm not mean. I just can smell a blatant lie a mile away."

Patton runs his hands over the turtle and tries to think around the twisting in his stomach. Tires to think of easy responses that will get Janus out of here and ease everyone's worry. But he's so tired. He still feels icky. He just wants to fall back asleep and pretend that will make everything better.

Janus sighs. "Virgil and Roman both came to me worried about you and I know damn well they're not exactly my number one fans right now, so that leads me to believe whatever this is--" Janus gestures at Patton, "isn't some itty bitty problem that we can just sweep under the rug."

"I thought you were all about self-care," Patton says. "Taking time for yourself and--"

" _This_ is not self-care," Janus snarls. "If this is the general idea of self-care around here, I have more work than I thought before."

Patton swallows. "I've just been feeling… bad. Lately. It will pass."

Janus frowns. "So the solution is to… hide away in your room, in the dark, and starve yourself?"

"I didn't…" Patton hates the vulnerability he's showing. Hates exposing all these lies. Hates bringing it to the light, under the scrutiny of his former enemy and current enemy of two of his best friends.

"I just didn't have the energy to do anything else."

"Christ, Patton," Janus snaps. "That's when you _ask for help_."

"But I should be helping, not needing helped. I am Thomas's _morality_! The father figure."

"And also the inner child," Patton rears back, cheeks burning. Janus's voice softens, "A child who is wounded and hurt, who never truly healed from many different things because he insists on always brushing the hurt off in favour of helping everyone else."

"Stop," Patton croaks. "Stop. You're trying to hurt me."

"I wouldn't dare," Janus says and Patton tries desperately to believe it's a lie. "Self-care," Janus continues slowly, "can sometimes be something as simple as letting other people take care of you for a minute."

Patton's fists clench into the turtle on his lap. "I'm not gonna force anybody to do that."

"You wouldn't be forcing anybody. Roman and Virgil both proved this by coming to someone they hate--"

"They don't hate you," Patton tries to argue.

Janus just continues like he can't hear him, "--in order to help you. Nobody's being forced. And for the record, if I have to make you a couple meals for a few days so you don't wallow in your room all alone, so be it."

Patton swallows down the big lump in his throat. "I don't know how to ask for help," he admits and it feels like he's cracking open his chest somehow.

"That's something you have to get better at with time. But you will get better at it if you try."

Patton nods. He feels a little less icky than before, some of the heavy looming sadness pushed back from the front of his mind for a minute.

"And Patton?"

"Hm?"

Janus sounds more serious than before, "This is not self-care. This is self-destruction. And unfortunately, you have begun to twist the two up so much you don't know which is which."

Patton nods again, feeling more and more close to tears, which makes no sense-- things were starting to feel lighter, like things might actually be okay. Why now?

He bursts into tears. Janus doesn't look surprised, just sighs like he's expected this all along. He takes a gloved hand and uses it to guide Patton's head against Janus's shoulder. Patton feels like he should care a little more about the fact he hasn't showered or brushed his teeth in two days, but Janus is actually wrapping his arms around Patton, cupping the back of his head, and cradling him, like he actually matters, and Patton just cries harder and harder until he's a loose body of limp muscles against Janus's chest.

"How about this," Janus says smoothly. "We go to the living room and watch a couple movies then I fix dinner for us. How does that sound?"

"That sounds good," Patton admits, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Why're you being so nice?"

"Don't get used to it," Janus says with a smirk and Patton can't help but feel like it actually means that he very much should get used to it. "I'll give you a couple minutes to freshen up, then we can meet in the living room, alright?"

Patton nods. "I do have a question though."

Janus raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Does uhm… hugging a stuffed animal count as self-care? Or is that silly?"

"It 100% counts." Janus shoots Patton a grin. "Meet you in the living room."

Janus sinks out, leaving Patton alone in his room again. Somehow, it doesn't feel as looming and lonely as it did before. He pulls his turtle in for a quick squeeze, before getting up to change into some different clothes.

He's got some movies to watch.

**Author's Note:**

> This is really OOC. Very self-indulgent h/c. 
> 
> I’ve been stuck in a depressive spiral for weeks now. I don’t have much energy at all, but I wanted to write this to maybe get some emotions out. It’s not super edited, so it’s gonna be messier than some of my other fics. Please do not critique. I am not looking for that and I am not in a good mental spot to receive that. Obviously, you have the freedom to do as you please. I merely request you refrain from pointing out typos or things like that.


End file.
